Tag: Studly Doright

Fictional Crushes

I saw this question on Facebook, then stole it for my author page:

Do you have a literary crush? A fictional guy or gal who makes your heart beat just a little faster?

For me, it’s Jamie from Outlander. Oh, and Roark from J.D. Robb’s “In Death” series. And if I’m being honest, I have a huge crush on Mark Fields, aka Dr. Hunky, from my own Happy Valley series. Of course, I get to tell him what to say and how to act, so it’s no wonder I love him. Too bad that doesn’t work in real life with Studly Doright.

Studly: “Hey, I’m going for a burger. Want one?“

Me: “Studly, maybe you should ask like this: ‘Hey sweetheart, I love you and can’t bear to be away from you for very long, so would you please come along with me to get dinner? We’ll go anywhere you choose. You’re just so beautiful and sweet and smart, and…’ Studly? Studly?”

Anyway, who’s your fictional crush?

Peace, people.

It’s Like This, Cat

Gracie and I had a heart-to-heart talk this morning about Daylight Savings Time.

Starting at 4:30 a.m.

Gracie: (poking on Studly Doright’s nose) “Meow?”

Me: “Gracie, shh! It’s not time to get up yet.“

Gracie: (rubbing her head against the alarm clock) “Meow.”

Me: “The humans have messed with time. It makes no sense to us either, but we’ll acclimate.”

Gracie: (striding across Studly’s body and plopping onto my chest.) “Meow!!!”

Me: (pushing myself out of bed) “But until we acclimate I’ll bow to your wishes. As usual.”

Gracie: (supervising the food delivery system, aka, me) “Purrrrrrrr.”

She’s now sleeping soundly on my feet. Little tyrant.

Peace, people.

Buckle Up!

Lots of stuff happening in the next few weeks.

I already voted, so now it’s just a matter of nail biting. So sick of political ads, especially the negative ones. Wouldn’t it be nice if the ads stopped once you’d cast your votes? That being said, please vote.

On the 12th of November, I’m heading to Las Vegas for a huge writing conference at Bally’s (or the Horseshoe, Bally’s is getting a name change). I’m hoping to learn how to up my marketing game, which right now consists of me saying, “I’ve written books. Several books. You should buy them,” to everyone I meet. My friends are ready to throw me off a cliff, and I wouldn’t blame them.

I’m so excited to meet other indie authors and engage in geeky author stuff. I’m old, so I won’t overindulge. Maybe…

Then there’s Thanksgiving—my favorite holiday. Just good food, football, and fellowship. There’s no rush to buy gifts or push to over decorate. And the mimosas I make to aid in the cooking process are the best. Okay, they’re just orange juice and champagne, but they do the trick.

Our daughter and her kiddos are flying into Orlando in early December. Studly Doright and I are going to meet them at the airport and spend time with them before they leave on a cruise. I still hope one of the grandkids will let me hide in their suitcase. It could happen.

The build up to Christmas is in full swing, of course. Our son and his family are coming to celebrate with us at Doright Manor. So excited! I’m already buying gifts, and that’s something I normally put off until almost the last minute.

Oh, and somewhere in the mix, my newest book, Christmas at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort will publish. Hopefully around Thanksgiving. 😳 Have I mentioned yet that I’m a writer? That I’ve published several books? Wait, that’s a cliff, please, I’m begging you. I won’t mention it again….

Whew! That was close. I think I’ll have another glass of wine.

Peace, people!

Star Struck

I met one of my heroes last night. And I don’t use the term hero lightly. Sean Dietrich is an author, a humorist, a musician, a treasure.

For quite a while now I’ve read Sean’s blog posts on Facebook. He writes about life, about the goodness in this old world. He writes about the helpers. The everyday angels. And last night I was fortunate enough to hear him speak (and sing) in person at an event sponsored by the Bookshelf bookstore in Thomasville, Georgia. What a wonderful evening it was.

Studly Doright came along for the ride, peppering me with questions on the fifty minute drive from Havana to Thomasville.

“So, he isn’t some political nut is he?” Studly asked.

“Nope. The only thing I can think of that Sean pontificates on is the dearth of good modern country music.”

“Is he going to try to sell us a time share?”

“No, but I’ll probably buy one of his books.”

“Well, what’s he going to talk about anyway?”

“Life, probably. Growing up in a southern Baptist church. Fried chicken. Things we are familiar with.”

Honestly, in retrospect, I should’ve just invited Studly along for a talk about good southern fried Baptist chicken. He didn’t ask another question after that—just stepped on the gas and got us to Thomasville in record time.

Sean was gracious enough to sign books and pass out hugs at the conclusion of his performance. And I was up for that. Such a huggable guy. I’m sure he thought I was a dotty old lady.

“We’re friends on Facebook,” I said, and he gave me a curious look. I might’ve mistaken me gushing over one of his posts for being friends on social media, because when I checked later, I discovered we weren’t friends there. My mind is quite adept at creating fictional circumstances.

Studly kind of sulked in a corner wondering where the fried chicken was, but grudgingly admitted he’d had a good time.

You can find Sean Dietrich’s books on Amazon. And I highly recommend them.

Peace, people

Extraordinary

Studly Doright was out of town most of this past week and I needed a good program to watch to make the evenings pass more quickly. A friend from my water aerobics class suggested a South Korean film on Netflix—“Extraordinary Attorney Woo.”

Now I’m hooked. The series, about a rookie attorney named Woo Young Woo, is refreshing and clever. There’s no nudity. No blood and guts. Just a young autistic woman with a penchant for whales, struggling to fight for truth, justice, and the South Korean way one case at a time.

So, if you need something completely different to watch, give Woo a chance.

Peace, people!

In Favor of Charlie Hunnam

Knowing that Studly Doright and I are motorcyclists, well-meaning friends have often recommended the series, Sons of Anarchy. Until recently we’ve always laughed and said, “We aren’t that kind of bikers.”

Nevertheless, we finally broke down and began watching the show. Now, two seasons in, we’ve got a few observations:

1) Trade the bikes for horses and you’ve basically got Yellowstone.

2) Katie Sagal is awesome as Gemma.

3) Charlie Hunnam is hot. Okay, that’s my observation. Studly wants you to know that he’s not on board with that.

4) It’s a violent show and we’re trying to decide if we’ll continue watching.

5) Charlie Hunnam is still hot, so we (I) probably will watch ‘til the end.

Peace, people.

I See the Light

Studly Doright had an interesting escapade a few days ago. I’d left for water aerobics at 6:30 a.m., while Studly waited for a co-worker to stop by Doright Manor to pick him up for a business trip to somewhere in western Florida.

While he waited, he opened up his motorcycle workshop to fiddle with his Suzuki for a few minutes. He left the door up since he didn’t plan to be inside the shop for very long.

As he checked to see if his bike’s new tubeless tires were holding air, Studly noticed a small group of worms headed his way.

“How odd.” He thought. “Maybe they’re attracted to the light.”

Stepping outside, he realized these worms weren’t behaving in a very wormlike manner. They raised their little heads in a suspiciously snakey way.

Now, my husband only fears a few things: crazy chickens, stampeding dairy cows, and snakes of any variety. These erstwhile worms were snakes, albeit, extremely skinny ones.

He freaked out and stomped each one in turn, then looked up to find more snakes headed his way. After all was said and done, Studly Doright had wiped out fourteen snakes. Maybe an entire generation!

I was appalled. “Why didn’t you just turn out the light? They were clearly attracted to it?”

“If I’d turned out the light, I wouldn’t have been able to see the snakes.”

I shuddered. Good point.

Peace, and sweet dreams, people!

Going Commando

This post might come under the Too Much Information category, so I’ll forgive you if you want to tune out.

I went to water aerobics this morning. I’d gotten up early and donned my two-piece swimsuit, pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt as a cover up. The water aerobics class didn’t begin until ten, so I went to my favorite coffee shop and worked on my current manuscript, managing to wrack up 1200 plus words in two hours. Not bad for a Saturday.

My watch alerted me when it was time to head to the pool and I arrived at Trousdale aquatics center with a few minutes to spare. My plan was to burn a ton of calories during my class, pack them back on at Sweet Pea Cafe, and then arrive back at Doright Manor before Studly Doright made it home from golf so I’d have my choice of nap locations. Dibs on the sofa!

About midway though froggy jumps, I realized I’d forgotten to pack my bra and undies. Hm. So as soon as I got out of the pool I stretched out on one of the loungers, soaking up the sun. But the clock was ticking. If I wanted that sofa nap I was going to need to take drastic measures.

In the locker room I pulled my T-shirt over my sort of soggy swimsuit top, but the bottoms were still really wet. So, I did something I can’t remember ever having done in my life. I pulled my jeans up over my naked bum and went commando.

Even though there was no way anyone could possibly tell I had no knickers on, I felt like I was wearing a scarlet letter on my forehead: C for commando or B for breezy. I gobbled down my lunch and scurried back to my car, then raced home, pulling into the driveway just minutes ahead of the competition.

And yes. I got the sofa—but only after I added undies to my ensemble. Going commando isn’t going to be my new norm. I promise.

Peace, people!

At Least I Speak the Language

In a very few days, I’m heading off on a grand adventure. Alone. To a foreign country. My emotions right now run the gamut from pure excitement to abject terror.

Mostly excitement, though. You see, I’m going to England to hang out with a couple of dear friends I’ve never actually met. Via FaceTime, the three of us have assured one another that we’re not axe murderers, and honestly, I’m positive they aren’t.

We’re keeping our plans fluid because I know how annoying I can be and they might want me gone after day one. I can also be charming, though, and in that case, they might want me to stay forever. In either event, I’ve booked a few days at a hotel in London and a return trip because at some point Studly Doright is going to miss me.

I leave on Tuesday and would love some good travel vibes—luggage that makes the trip with me, smooth flights, pleasant seat mates, on time arrivals, etc. Oh, just for the record, I’m leaving my axe at home.

Peace, people!

Fun With Lightning

As I’m typing this it’s 3:30 p.m. in Tallahassee, FL, on Tuesday, August 9, 2022. I’m trapped in my car by a thunderstorm of incredible intensity. As one lightning strike ends another takes its place and the thunder rolls in a continuous symphony of earth shaking booms. The storm’s now been raging for over half an hour. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

I texted Studly Doright and told him what’s going on. He’s still at work, you see, in another part of town. He told me he loved me and that it’s been fun… Gee, that’s reassuring.

Y’all carry on.

Peace, people!